


Warm

by butimnotdeadyet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Based on the pintosketches sketch with coat-sharing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8101078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: Mick may never look at his stupid partner's stupid coat the same way again. It's really not meant for two people, even if one is pint-sized.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: They're not mine, but I do love them so.  
> Inspired by pintosketches work on tumblr.

Sara and Snart were playing bait to a terrorist group while the kid and Stein flew in to remove and diffuse a particularly sensitive thermite bomb in a underground, inter-hotel footpath in Chicago, with Mick and the rest making sure civilians and first responders kept out of their hair. The mission went off without any of Hunter’s typical, grand fuck-ups and ended pretty clean by the Legends standards, but it took the crook and assassin almost another hour to fight and sneak their way back to base camp, aka the jumpship parked inside a hallowed out and abandoned doublewide in the warehouse district.

And apparently the last twenty minutes of the trek back was more eventful than the entirety of the rest of the venture, what with Snart arriving about ready to keel over breathless and a shivering Sara soaked through her leathers with sweat and what Mick could guess from the smell was over-chlorinated pool water. All the team got by way of explication before the pair retreated for a much desired soak was that there had been a hydrophobic merc with an bad attitude and a big machine gun. 

Sometime later, they emerged- clean, dry, and in far better spirits- to take part in the debrief. It wasn’t until about half way through that Mick made out a shuffling noise to his left. The arsonist turned to see what might possibly be the most absurd form of post-op couple’s camaraderie that any time-ship’s bridge had ever seen: Sara Lance slowly zipping herself into the down of Captain Cold’s signature parka- while the coat was still being worn by the man himself.

The coat had replaced the leather one Snart’d worn during the fighting and it must‘ve been the first time for Snart to witness these particular antics, too, judging by the way that he had paused mid Rip-aimed-scowl to gape at the small blonde that seemed to be doing her damnedest to disappear into his chest cavity.

Without her boots on, Sara was a solid head and neck shorter than Snart, which meant that even with her wiggling and shifting, the coat easily covered her from where it hit around her ears and down to the tops of her legs. After she settled the pull of the zipper as snugly as she could against her throat, both of her hands retreated into the material, likely curled across her chest if the shapes inside the parka were anything to go by. Once she stilled, making her intent to remain in place known, Mick heard his partner make a questioning and somewhat affronted sound in the back of his throat, but all that either heard in reply was a hushed ‘I’m cold’ and a command to listen to Rip- rich coming from the woman who had fallen asleep in said captain’s chair during a similar meeting the day before. 

The talk continued without any big fanfare, and no other teammates noticing or calling attention to the recent apprehension of fluffy assets, though both Mick and Snart’s eyes occasionally drifted to what remained visible of the assassin in the ‘v’ of the younger’s coat. Snart gave in first, of course, letting his arms circle around the lump of a woman that was plastered to his front and easing forward until his chin could rest on her head, just above her ponytail, while Mick just scoffed. When he glanced over again minutes later, Blondie’s nose had turned into the seam of the coat, hunting out the fleece lining, and Snart’s eyes had drifted shut were he stood, seemingly too tired to be bothered by either the public location or the way the expensive material of his prized coat was now pushed to its limits by double occupancy. Mick bit back a laugh.

The briefing wrapped and the others began to disperse, unaware of the completely ridiculous behavior of Mick’s partner and their resident badass until Jax turned on his heel to ask Mick a parting question. In the moment that followed, Mick not only had to throw a hand over his own mouth to keep from an out burst at the kids resulting expression- which looked like a bastardized form of confusion, awe, and mild discomfort- but was forced to leap across the space between him and the kid to keep any opinions from being voiced too loudly. If you think an undead assassin is dangerous, try disrupting her and her boyfriend in the middle of hard-won contentedness without getting a limb forcibly removed.

Mick dragged Jax away by a firm grip on his arm and they made it all the way around the corner before tripping over each other and landing on their asses due to laughing so hard. 

Barely.


End file.
